


Inferno

by cigarettesanddiatribes



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Has A Palace, Akechi Goro and Sakura Futaba Are Half-Siblings, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Violence, Coercion, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Psychological Trauma, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesanddiatribes/pseuds/cigarettesanddiatribes
Summary: “There was... something else. About that day.” Akira said. Might as well just say what had been there all along, the worries he had shunned to the back of his brain. “Look, Akechi is– If he had figured us out, he would’ve made a move, right?” He looked at the three of them, and was met with nods. Good. “He would’ve acted cocky. But he didn’t. He... I think it felt like he was hiding something? Boss even said he’s going through hard times.”He let his words hang in the air around them, watched the gears in his friend’s brains turning at the thought. If Futaba had been there, she’d have something smart to say — he remembered her rambling once that coding from such an early age wired her brain different, a string constantly being rewritten. He figured this is what their reality had taken to now, a new series of inputs that had broken the base code.Akechi was a source of intel. Rewrite. Akechi was on their tails, close enough to bite.Akechi was not a guy who had blood on his hands. Rewrite. Was he?
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	Inferno

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a slow one, boys. As always, comments are appreciated and keep me motivated! A warning that this series will feature descriptions of violence and sexual themes later on, and I'll tag/update warnings as we go. I also haven't gotten any beta read done, it'll... happen. Later.

####  **??/11/20XX - ?????????  
****Interrogation Room**

Akira’s mind felt like water in a tumbling jar, his brain dripping through the cracks of his face. Sae’s words were a distant and muffled echo in the horizon line, as he tried to crawl his way out of whatever ship his mind was sailing on — his brain had hit reloop on the waves, everything was swaying. He felt drunk, or maybe what he supposed being drunk was about, and he even looked the part: bloodshot eyes and voice slurring at the edges.

Sae was shaking her head in front of him, and speaking things he couldn’t understand until she snapped open the investigation folder between them. The heavy thud of the paper stack hitting the table brought the ship to the shore, and he sobered up. Finally.

“This all seems still... really unreliable. However, all the base points match our investigation, so far — Especially Haru Okumura’s testimony on her father’s death.” She wasn’t entirely confident in their endeavours and really, Akira could only hope for the best – it wasn’t exactly easy to sell a story about a parallel reality where all your cognitions became literal things. His head ached, the drugs and the serum making his speak against his will. Sae crossed her arms. “I suppose you wouldn’t be able to lie even if you wanted to.”

“...” No answer came from him.

“I’ll hold onto your testimony over Okumura’s death then. Your next victim...” She started again, pulling a red and black card from one of the plastic pages and placed it in front of him. The name, in bold cut-out letters, AKECHI GORO, made his head spin. “Was none other than my one pupil, Akechi Goro. Certainly he knew something that I don’t. I wonder what was your purpose – perhaps silence the only loud opposition your group had?” Everything about Sae was silver, her tongue was a sharp knife.

“Is that’s what you think?” Akira tried to make sense of the puzzle, the memories like a supercut of everything Akechi, accusations of brainwashed victims thrown over a coffee mug. “I’m just saying what I remember. But I think... we had to save him.”

He watched the prosecutor’s eyebrow raise, not believing for one second that her protegée needed any rescuing. Akira sighed, and hoped that the words wouldn’t falter as he tried to remember all the events. Akechi had led him there, to that underground cell.

Now, at least, she would hear his version of the facts.

####  **??/11/20XX - ?????????  
** **?????????**

“You’re a terrible phantom thief.” The voice, the smell, everything was so _Akechi_ , yet the man kissing him wasn’t — the irises too yellow and bright to feel real. Akira felt his mouth burn, felt his legs weak and his heart drum heavily against his chest.

The Palace was crumbling all around them, no treasure in the thieves’ possession.

Akechi had his hands on a valise that _Akira_ should be the one holding, he knew it. He had been looking pointedly at what was inside, he couldn’t remember what now, before it was being clicked shut. Akechi kissed him after, for good measure, and then it’s the thieves who were all running. He had no idea how. His lips still burned from the kiss, his entire memory being reduced to a feeling.

####  **24/10/20XX - 18:25h  
** **Leblanc Café**

Conveniently enough, Akechi was right there in his usual spot at Leblanc as soon as Akira wandered in for the evening, the bell chiming softly after him. Sojiro was manning the shop, if the strong scent of his favourite blend of coffee was anything to go by, and sitting at the last booth there was still a customer lingering, one of the regulars. Akira’s eyes flickered to the TV, tuned at the news, and then down at Akechi, watching the detective look up and away from the coffee as if suddenly unbidden by a spell.

“Welcome home.” He chimed, a soft smile that at first, had annoyed Akira. Now, it just made him sour — Akechi danced to a rehearsed melody in his head, tone-deaf to the audience.

“Honey, I’m home.” Akira grinned, sugarcoating his voice. He and Akechi had exchanged contact numbers since the beginning of the month, and in one of their conversations, Akechi had mentioned his interest in old noir movies, where the women always dawdled ‘babe’ and ‘honey’ at every breath. The joke, however, seemed to fly right over Akechi’s head.

“You’re back awfully late.” The tone was light, controlled, almost like Akechi had missed him. Akira remembered asking Sojiro once if Akechi ever happened to come while he was away, but the barista had just shrugged off some ‘no’. Whenever the detective happened to enjoy a coffee at Leblanc, he’d stay until Akira showed up.

Akira wondered if maybe, just as he had been cornering Akechi insistently for intel now, the detective had been doing just the same in return. But it couldn’t be possible. It would only make sense if Akechi had figured him out as the Phantom Thieves’ leader, and unless the detective moonlighted as a Metanav user, the thieves’ MO was impossible to figure out. Akira had made sure of it.

_Hadn’t he?_

“Sae and I, we had a... difference of opinion.” Akechi’s voice pulled Akira back into the moment, the sudden sad tone as his mask momentarily slipped. Sae wasn’t telling Makoto about her work and now, apparently she wasn’t telling Akechi much either — this didn’t make sense. Akechi surprisingly didn’t sound like he was lying either, not this time, and Sojiro offered no replies either. Hell, why would Akechi pointedly distance himself from the prosecutor that he worked directly under? 

The sounds from the TV buzzed louder as a politician came into focus, rambling on and on about how society needed to get back on its rails. Yeah, get in line, bald man. The man mentioned something more about corruption and standard talk about how his agenda would be the miracle to fix everything evil — Akira wanted to roll his eyes pointedly. The worst part was not how hypocritical the speech sounded, textbook lawfully right politician goodness, but the costumer on the back was clapping at every moment.

Akechi wasn’t looking at the TV. He was looking perhaps at the cups drying next to it, or a particularly interesting dot on the wall, but not the TV. His whole expression was suddenly rigid, shut-in, jaw locked tight. The detective tugged at his gloves, then his fingers curled into a fist. Akira knew there was something to it; Akechi’s withdrawal from the media and now this tense expression at some stupid discourse on corruption, but the sudden headache that hammered his brain stopped his thoughts. He had seen that politician _somewhere_ before.

“What’re you standing there staring into space for? You’re creeping me out.” Sojiro’s voice wasn’t loud, but it sounded like it, cutting through all of Akira’s thoughts.

Akechi had not shifted in his seat, but his eyes darted around the room. He was searching for something, his breaths coming out in short puffs — an exercise to cool down.

“It’s nothing.” _Don’t ask_ , Akira’s tone seemed to say. Sojiro raised one eyebrow at the sudden defiance, then just shrugged things off in a half-assed reply about not caring either. 

The annoying customer was still praising the politician on TV. Apparently it was a new guy, not affiliated to any party yet, called Masayoshi Shido. Akira couldn’t care less, it was just another adult doing shitty adult things, saying one thing and doing another behind his back like everyone else did.

“Criminals”, hm..?” Akechi finally spoke, bringing his hand to curl under his chin as his other one curled around the empty coffee mug. Even tilting his head, Akira couldn’t see his expression now, carefully hidden behind thick locks of caramel hair. “Well, that must be how he sees it. However, that is ignorant of their true nature.”

Now, either Akechi had suddenly become a die-hard fan of the Phantom Thieves, or he was implying something about their ‘true nature’ instead. Akira tensed, adding it up to the fact Akechi possibly knew his schedule by now, where he slept, his phone number. He had to play it cool then, if he wanted to get anything out of the other without putting his own neck on the line. _Hey Akechi, by the way, I’m the criminal you want to cuff._

“Ah, finally on the thieves’ side?” Akira leered, his mouth curling easily into a grin as he hopped to the stool next to Akechi’s and sat, crossing his legs.

“That’s... rather a stretch, Akira.” Akechi was looking at him now, not only just his eyes but his whole body had turned towards him. Good, he liked when the detective fooled him into this sense of openness. “I won’t deny that I empathize with them on some level — I guess that’s a detective’s role, is it not? But, if they only go after the morally corrupt...” A pause, and as Akechi’s hand curled tighter around his own chin, Akira leaned in. “You’d think our goals are the same, hm? But they are not, Akira.”

Akechi had looked pointedly at him then, and the sentence felt more personal than it should.

“Wow, and here I thought I had finally turned you into a phanboy.” Akira played it off then, laughing as he put some distance between them. Everyone with enough brain could guess the Thieves’ goals, but Akechi had made it personal, as if he just knew their next victim even, their codenames and outfits. _It couldn’t be._

Akechi laughed loudly then, flippant; to Akira, the unrehearsed inelegance was utterly charming.

“Me, a phanboy! I knew there was something special about you, ever since the first time we met.” Whatever distance Akira had put between them disappeared as Akechi leaned in this time, hand on the counter and a inviting smile towards the Shujin student. “I feel as though I could tell you anything during our conversations, really. Even your Phantom Thieves’ identities, one by one. Which reminds me...” Akechi paused again, his fingers drumming against the wood for a moment before he was all smiles again.

Akira gulped — Akechi had gone from a honeyed voice to a mockery of it, his smile had sharp edges now.

“I’ve been invited to a panel at Shujin Academy, and... Oh wait, I’m sure you know that already.” He laughed it off, terribly so, and then curled his fingers over Akira’s wrist, trapping his arm over the counter. “It’s terribly rude of Niijima-san to request me after I’ve just announced I’m done making public appearances... Yet also, it’s very telling of her intentions, don’t you think?” 

“Really? We just wanted to know more about you, that’s all...” He tried to laugh things off, but it sounded off-key. Akira didn’t want to know about Akechi’s life, he needed intel. And fast.

“Tell her I’ll have to decline the offer.” Akechi’s thumb ran over Akira’s wrist, under the sleeve of his coat and over his skin.

“Why me?” Akira’s throat felt dry, despite his smile.

Akechi merely laughed dryly, standing up carefully and leaving the exact cost for the coffee on the counter. He reached for his valise, tucked his belongings inside, and scurried to the door like a trapped mouse. He looked pointedly one last time at Akira then, as Sojiro had wandered inside for the bathroom, and his pleasant smile broke.

“Quit the act, Kurusu. We both know why.” He hissed, and the door clicked shut behind him.

Akira ran up the stairs, Morgana jumping out of his bag and into the counter before he was checking every pocket and every nook of his bag for his phone. The cat-not-cat meowed insistently before Akira focused on its voice, on the fact that Morgana was supposed to have a voice, and then its speech kicked in. He found his phone, finally, pocketed between his dirt beef bowl uniform and the gym tracksuit.

“Akira!!! What the hell!” Morgana hissed, tail swishing angrily as it pounced from the counter near the stairs to Akira’s bed. “What was that about Akechi now? I told you approaching him was dangerous! Look a–”

He was so glad Morgana was a cat, just a flick of his hand and he could shut it up.

“He figured us out, that’s what _that_ was!” Akira hissed back, his hands covering his mouth as he tried to think on a strategy, a way forward, anything. He had come into that café with one intention in mind: to corner Akechi and strip any kind of information out of him. He just wasn’t expecting it to have it blow up in his face. “Somehow he knows I’m a phantom thief and why Makoto invited him for it — but... _how_?!” His voice wasn’t even calm now, as Morgana punted the secondhand bedsheets in frustration, drawing holes with sharp claws.

Akira wished the world would stop spinning.

He tried backtracking then. Akechi monitored him in Leblanc, knew exactly where he lived and the times he possibly arrived home. Akechi knew Sojiro Sakura, maybe even Futaba, and because Akechi knew Sae Niijima, he had easily enough correlated Makoto and him. Akechi also had his phone, tons of forgotten late-night conversations about the world, favourite movies, and the rare moments where they weren’t thief and detective chasing after each other’s tails but just Goro and Akira. Akechi had started calling him Akira in these quiet moments now, it slowly seeped into every time they met.

In his mind, he couldn’t piece together all these fragments into a person. Goro, the boy he thought he knew well by now and Akechi, the detective he needed off his tracks, the one who had finally bitten back.

“Joker? You look awful...”

Akira was about to reply, when his phone buzzed once. A loud sound in the silent attic.

> **Iwai:** You got free time, kid? I have a job.

This was not the conversation he wanted. He flicked his thumb and switched the screen to the group chat. It stared at him, and while he knew what he needed to type, he had no idea how. He typed the first coherent sentence that came to mind, and hit send.

> **Akira:** Akechi is a no-go. He figured us out.

His phone buzzed again, and this time, it didn’t stop.

> **Ryuji:** WHAAAAAAT
> 
> **Ryuji:** DUDE WHAT THE FUCK EXPLAIN THAT
> 
> **_*Several people are typing…*_ **
> 
> **Makoto:** How do you know, Joker? He... hasn’t replied to me yet.
> 
> **Ann:** Akira knows him, tho? Akira, is Akechi there?
> 
> **Ann:** Are you in danger?
> 
> **Ryuji:** Shit Ann, ofc he’s not in danger! 
> 
> **Ryuji:** We’re ALL in danger now!!!!!!!
> 
> **Haru:** Oh.
> 
> **_*Haru is typing…*_ **
> 
> **_*Haru is typing…*_ **
> 
> **Haru:** What’s the new plan, then?

Akira sighed. He didn’t even know how to begin explaining the early conversation.

> **Akira:** He was at Leblanc today. Comes often enough
> 
> **Akira:** He asked me to tell you _@Makoto_ that he won’t go
> 
> **Makoto:** _@Akira_ Did he say anything else?
> 
> **Ann:** Akira... 
> 
> **Haru:** So, we have no guests in the event. That’s a shame.
> 
> **Haru:** I must say... I didn’t have a good feeling about Akechi-kun, maybe this was for the best.
> 
> **Ryuji:** wtf was he doing in leblanc anyway man
> 
> **Ryuji:** dude!!! How would we even deal with that
> 
> **Akira:** _@Makoto_ no, he didn’t.  
>  ****
> 
> **Akira:** Just hinted that he knows I’m a PT
> 
> **Ann:** Ryuji!!! Calm down! We need brains now!
> 
> **Yusuke:** Forgive me, I was busy, what just happened?
> 
> **Ryuji:** URGHHHHH DUDE _@Yusuke_ LITERALLY SCROLL UP
> 
> **Makoto:** Ann is right, we need brains now.
> 
> **Makoto:** I’ll wait for my sister to come home. I’ll see what I can find.
> 
> **Makoto:** _@Futaba_ can you dig up anything on Akechi?
> 
> **Yusuke:** But... How?

Morgana was perched close, reading the notifications blasting his phone as the rest of the thieves continued arguing. Only Futaba seemed to be absent, maybe because Sojiro was nagging her to have dinner with him by now. Akira had stopped reading the messages. He just watched them come through, show up with a mechanical _pop_ sound like a sad balloon bursting.

“You shouldn’t have told them like this...” The cat began again, licking at his paws as he nudged Akira’s thighs. “What will we do now, Joker?”

“Do you think he will sell us out?” Akira started, suddenly conscious that he needed a shower, strip out of his dirty uniform, into clean pajamas and bed. “Is that why he decided to cut all media appearances?” It didn’t make sense though, and the frustration that he knew he was missing something, but not what, gnawed at his brain.

“Maybe not! He would have accepted the invitation and made it a trap if that was the case, no?” Morgana’s tail swished again, before he jumped off the single bed. “It’s late... You should get ready and sleep, tomorrow we think about it, okay, Joker?”

Akira nodded dully, and as he walked to the bathhouse nearby, he felt himself simply going through the motions. He flicked his phone into airplane mode, and stared at the last of his conversation with Akechi, still unanswered. It stared back at him until he properly reached the bathhouse, then the screen was turned off, and the conversation was no more.

> **Akechi:** Hm... Why not go with your homonym? Akira, the 1988 movie?
> 
> **Akira:** Hmm got me. I watched it as a kid and it stuck
> 
> **Akechi:** Hahaha! So I’m correct, then.
> 
> **Akira:** wow, detective, so smart!
> 
> **Akechi:** Akira, please...
> 
> **Akechi:** Since I guessed yours, do you want to guess mine back?
> 
> **Akira:** Nah
> 
> **Akira:** Just tell me instead
> 
> **Akira:** what’s your favourite movie?

####  **25/10/20XX - 14:32h  
****Shujin Academy**

Shujin school had gotten famous since last april. In between Kamoshida, the principal and the rumours of Akechi, the Second Coming of the Detective Prince himself, coming up for a speech, Shujin went from just another school to Tokyo’s hottest gossip. It showed on the festival, the classes extra decorated with banners and students wearing cheerful costumes as they greeted not only the usual crowd of students and parents, but curious newcomers adult and teenage alike.

The stands offered the usual: simple festival food that was likely bought pre-made, mostly finger foods, and simple games to pass the time. The day had started out busy for Shujin students, a lot more people than expected showed up just to see the school, yet as soon as the news that Akechi had cancelled his speech last-minute, the crowd began to dwindle. Which was not to say the festival was remotely quiet. 

Two girls chatted at one corner, their loud hushed tones catching Akira’s attention as he discreetly went to check the fishing booth near them.

“I can’t believe Akechi-kun couldn’t make it! I heard he’s gotten infected with a terrible flu... Shimizu’s dad works at the police station and she said he hasn’t showed up even for work.” The shorter one started, twirling at her hair before looking at and pretending to look disinterested.

“Well, no wonder he refused... That Niijima girl is such a tool, she probably scared him off.” The other girl quipped, slightly angry behind her politeness. “Then again, Akechi-kun did say on TV that he’d quit media appearances — do you think he knows who those Phantom Thieves are?!”

“Oh!” The other girl suddenly bounced on her heels, hands covering her lips as she snickered. “Imagine if Akechi-kun comes arrest them here by surprise! They did say those thieves were Shujin, right?”

Akira stepped back then, walked with the crowd and stopped by another booth, where a couple of parents happened to be chatting by, but they didn’t say anything important however, just simple comments about how their son looked well-dressed. He moved along again. His friends were yet to arrive, so Akira had decided he’d try to get the most out of the gossip, but so far, he had nothing. The students all seemed completely focused on Akechi’s disappearance, some accusing the detective and some, like those girls, more dreamy.

He listened with half an ear, before a hand tugged at his shoulder, making him turn back. It was Ryuji.

“Man, there you are! Me and Ann were all over the place trying to find you...” He sounded toned down, defeated in a strange way that wasn’t Ryuji at all. Akira frowned a bit at that, at the way the blond’s shoulders sagged, and stepped a bit closer. Ann was right behind, her bright-red leggings contrasting sharply against the school’s white walls and assuring him that yes, Panther was right there and ready to act.

Akira hated playing favourites, but if he had to pick, he’d go with Ryuji and Ann: they had been a trio since the start, the muscles and the brain to his rebellious heart. Sure all the other team members had their good points, but something in Akira just kept rewinding back to the start, to simpler times when making out after getting Kamoshida down had been enough, and lounge lazily in the rooftop was fun — an entwined pile of bodies, in a place where rules didn’t apply.

“Akechi-kun really didn’t show up, huh?” Ann started, trying to sound sweet as she placed one hand in Ryuji’s waist and the other over Akira’s shoulder. “The others should be coming up soon, but I know a place to hide meanwhile...” She started, then smiled and tilted her head a bit, pointing above.

Ryuji’s wide grin and Akira’s nod was all the answer they needed.

The rooftop was empty as the trio made their way up, Morgana jumping easily out of Akira’s bag as he placed it down on the floor. Each other took to an abandoned chair, Ryuji stretching his legs lazily and Ann simply leaning against one of the dirty tables Haru now used to stow her gardening supplies. They all looked expectantly at Akira then, who scratched at the back of his neck before he told them in more details everything that had happened.

Ann was the first to speak, her arms crossed defensively.

“He doesn’t think we’re criminals but he still is pretty bent on arresting all of us, isn’t he...?” She started, hesitation at every word. “I mean, no wonder — his career is made if he gets to be the guy who arrested _the_ Phantom Thieves... And he’d love the praise.” Her voice dripped into poison at the last sentence, and for a moment Akira saw Carmen there instead, taking a long drag of her cigar and looking down at every men before her. He didn’t miss the hint of love in Ryuji’s eyes at that.

“The word he uses is ‘vigilante’ for us, instead... Remember how he thinks we’re obstructing his justice?” Akira started, humming, as he tried to remember significant things about Akechi, instead of the simple things he just liked about him. “Akechi’s never been exactly quiet about our morality... We just never bothered.”

“Well yeah!! Who the fuck’s worried about morality when there are criminals out there and we can do something about them?” Ryuji huffed, stomped his foot as he shoved his hands into his pockets. His body was slouched, but he looked tense. Ready to burst. “Ann’s right, bro, dude just wanted the praise instead! I mean– who knows what could have happened to us if Kamoshida, Madarame or- or any of them were still out there!”

Ann just glared pointedly at him, sighing. Ryuji might’ve not known what would’ve happened had Kamoshida continued with his crimes, but she had a pretty good idea. “There were people out there saying Kamoshida was a victim. Victim! They don’t even care about Shiho! No one ever listened to the girls... They only believed him when he confessed. When _we_ made him confess.”

“We’re not here to discuss our morality, guys... _Akechi_ , remember?! We lost our intel and found trouble!” It was Morgana’s turn to interrupt, before Ann and Ryuji turned everything into a personal conversation. The cat pounced onto a nearby table. “Joker, you have been messaging Akechi too, right? What else did he say?”

_He said it upset him he hadn’t been able to watch Featherman recently..._

“Nothing. Just trivial things, food, music... He won’t text me back either, I sent him a message a couple hours ago.” Akira shrugged, a tint of sadness in his lack of anger. It was a strange sight, while the other three thieves looked ready to move, standing up, their leader stood motionless, sitting in an abandoned chair. Morgana might as well have asked what Akechi _didn’t_ say. “He just hinted that he knows it’s us... Or at least, I’m one. I think from there it’s not really hard to miss — we are the school delinquents, all of us.” He always smiled at the epithet Shujin picked for them, but not this time.

Akechi liked his coffee black, house blend espresso and by no sugar, he meant three. He kept his files always organized on the counter, always piled up in case he needed to get them in a rush, hit and run. Anyone else and Akira might’ve guessed it was because they didn’t want to take up any more space than necessary, but Akechi didn’t seem the type to turn himself invisible at will — he was comfortable in front of the cameras enough that Akira supposed him the guy to call the shots instead, have all the props at his disposal at the snap of his fingers. Life was easy when the public swayed your way. 

Akechi also had laughed when Akira suggested him to be that cliché kinda detective who listened to classical music, instead replying he actually prefered the bubbly pop songs that looped on the radio, or the jazz club they’d often go to. Akechi sometimes sent pictures of his apartment, always squeaky clean and white, untouched. Akechi had admitted once that he started drinking coffee because of Sae Niijima, but ended up liking it anyway. He had also hinted that sometimes she’d visit him, and he almost never replied with audio messages, but always replied at strange, random times. The best were at 3am, when the buzz drowned the otherwise looming silence.

Akechi was not a guy who had blood on his hands.

“Dude... and Makoto said he works with her sister, right?” Ryuji startled him, rolling his neck down one side, then the other, as it clicked. He paused then, blinked as if his mind had spun too fast, and after the whiplash his voice hit high. “Do you think he knows?!”

Akira blinked and realized that no matter how much he had learned about Akechi, he had missed asking the essential. 

“Don’t be stupid, Ryuji!” Ann, however, was there to be the voice of reason. Akira resisted the urge to clap his palms together in prayer. “If Makoto’s sister knew, we’d already be jailed. Unless he only pinned down Akira... Urgh, this is worse than when Makoto was on our tail.” She stomped one feet down repeatedly then, her hands balled into fists so that her red and manicured nails were no longer in view. When Ryuji reached over to gently tap at her shoulder, pulling her a bit closer, she simply sulked.

“Lady Ann, that’s it!” Morgana seemed to be having none of it, though, looking up at the girl as if she’d just said something deep and political instead. Or maybe the cat had revelations. “When Makoto found us, later we switched her to our side... If we could, if Akira could have him as a confidant, that’d solve our troubles, wouldn’t it?” 

Ryuji blinked, ignoring how smug the cat looked to instead, look pointedly at Akira. Their leader simply grinned instead, and shook his head. The faux blond huffed, crossed his arms in defense.

“Yeah, except he isn’t Makoto — Akechi is a prick, he won’t take our side. He’d get more by selling us out to the police, all the fame and pampering he wants.” Ryuji rolled his eyes, talking louder than he honestly should, drawing all the attention to himself. Morgana swished its tail again, and bared its fangs like a particularly annoyed cat.

Lately, Akira had noted, these two always seemed to be at each other’s throats.

“Then how do we deal with him, Ryuji?” Ann joined the fight, just as angry as the rest. She stepped forward, between the blond and the cat, and when she brought her hand down on the table, it almost made the cat fall over. Whenever Ryuji got angry, Ann followed close, catching flame. “We don’t even know how much he knows!”

Her voice was a loud sigh in the abandoned rooftop, yet the silence that fell after it was even louder. Ryuji sighed and grunted, but offered no reply, and Morgana bowed his head down, ears tilted as it pretended to be suddenly busy licking pawns. Akira watched the trio, blinked at them, and figured that this was likely it — the moment they all looked up to them, begging their leader for a clue. He hated and loved these moments.

His phone buzzed, Makoto asking where were they. He thumbed ‘rooftop’, then clicked it off and looked pointedly at the merry band of thieves. They seemed frozen in time, waiting for his input, and he felt his throat dry again, no obvious commands to give.

Akira’s lips hanged dully open before he simply bit at them instead, hesitating.

“There was... something else. About that day.” He said, might as well just say what had been there all along, the worries he had shunned to the back of his brain. “Look, Akechi is– If he had figured us out, he would’ve made a move, right?” He looked at the three of them, and was met with nods. _Good_. “He would’ve acted cocky. But he didn’t. He... I think it felt like he was hiding something? Boss even said he’s going through hard times.” 

He let his words hang in the air around them, watched the gears in his friend’s brains turning at the thought. If Futaba had been there, she’d have something smart to say — he remembered her rambling once that coding from such an early age wired her brain different. _I learn by loops, everything is a logical string until a new input comes then I just rewrite everything. But it’s never like, a truth. You know?_ He didn’t, but the image had stuck, and he figured this is what their reality had taken to now, a new series of inputs that had changed the entire set-up.

Akechi was a source of intel. _Loop_. Akechi was on their tails, close enough to bite.

Akechi was a better citizen than all of them, with their dirty records and delinquent grins. _Loop_. Akechi had something very criminal to hide.

“I knew it!” It was Ryuji who acted first, his whole mouth contorting to a grin like he had just caught onto a particularly big fish. “That whole upstanding act never fooled me, I bet he’s got a Palace!” The boy cheered, and gesticulated a c’mon at both Ann and Morgana, urging them to agree. He seemed too agitated now to be able to find the proper words, so what came out instead was a jumbled mess. “It’s the best plan too, isn’t it? We find whatever twisted desire he’s got, and shit bro, you’re the one who can stand to hear him talk so you can go there tell him he can’t arrest us! We _got_ him!”

Ann paused, still not entirely sold as she hummed, “he’s a detective, how would we find dirt on him? Honestly, I think he looks really boring... To even have a palace. He’s not like the adults we dealt with, and sure he isn’t remotely cornered like Futaba-chan was.” She bit her lip then, and Ryuji’s resolve seemed to crumble a bit.

Morgana shook its head, letting out a breath.

“We can’t be hasty... And we’re not the whole group yet. But if Akechi did have a Palace, he’d be off our tails — Ryuji’s right. We’d prove our justice too, if he took our side.” The cat paused then, sitting up as it started at Akira. “You’re still our leader, what do you think?”

Before Akira could offer any words, the rooftop door clicked open. It was the rest of the thieves, Morgana quickly dashing to be petted by Haru.

“There you all are. We’ve been looking, you know... But I had a feeling about here.” Makoto had strode in front, oxford shoes shining slick and clicking against the cement floor. Yusuke followed short behind, in the same stripped suit of always, the one battered at the corners and sometimes stained with ink, and last by came Haru, in a simple bubbly outfit that likely costed more than every single gold he’s stolen in the Metaverse together.

“Futaba couldn’t come. She said apparently her computer broke and she needs to fix it.” Yusuke added, and as the rest of the gang took their seats, Akira merely observed. Yusuke looked particularly interested in the abandoned rooftop, his gaze lingering at the most random things: broken chairs, graffiti, a crack on the nearby tiles, the ‘keep out’ signs. 

“What did we miss?” Straight to the point, as ever. Akira had a feeling that, in case he were ever to quit the business, Makoto would take over him in a beat.

The conversation started all over again, louder this time, as Ryuji backtracked what they had discussed about Akechi having dirt of his own, Morgana and Ann offering their inputs as well — Ann seemed particularly doubtful whether going after Akechi this much was remotely interesting for them, while Morgana remained hellbent on insisting that using the detective like a pawn was best. He merely watched as Makoto and Haru added their own cautious inputs, finding it strange that Haru in particular seemed to support Ryuji’s claims of a palace for Akechi. While most people weren’t aware of their own palaces, cognitively, they were aware of the desires that shaped it — their own corruptions, so to speak.

Akechi might’ve been their guy back in April or so, when he still sounded like he was parroting every adult before, but lately... Akira shook his head, and stood up. Akechi wasn’t their guy, he wasn’t their victim, and chances are, he couldn’t even be used for intel now, too bitter and angry at Akira for who knows what. He might’ve been an asshole, but... not enough to have a Palace.

“You guys carry on without me, okay? Sojiro texted, he needs help manning the shop...” He was speaking before he knew it, and then everyone was looking at him in disbelief. His mere response was a grin to that, donning Joker’s personality for it was himself, just more lippy. “Don’t punch Akechi while I’m gone.”

####  **25/10/20XX - 18:57h  
** **Yongen-Jaya**

The train home had been packed, certainly, but being surrounded by unknown and innocuous workers travelling back home from their jobs, all tired and yawning from overwork, somewhat chilled Akira’s nerves. He knew no one and no one knew him in that train, and as it speed up from one station to the next, a robotic voice announcing the stations, the more it emptied. By the time Akira had arrived in Yongen-Jaya, a residential and smaller neighbourhood, most people were dropping off as well, his body being pulled by the sudden flux.

Outside the station it had started to rain, a soft drizzle bringing in cold winds and the loud splatter as it hit over plastic awning. Akira pulled his umbrella out of the bag with a soft grace, flicking it up and open with a twist of his hand. Morgana was still in his bag, purring softly in almost sleep, lulled by the soft sounds his shoes made against the small pools of rainwater. He paused in thought, walking under the cinema’s concrete canopy that shielded him from the rain, and rested the umbrella over his other shoulder — he had gotten away from the trouble of facing his friends, but to walk into Leblanc now would be certain death.

He thought back to Futaba, still under the radar, and Sojiro, brewing better coffee than what the clientele deserved. He needed out of there too, he wanted out of himself, if he could.

“Hm, Morgana?” He said, whistling softly after to wake up the cat. “Still there?”

The cat yawned before replying, “yeah... Weren’t we going to Leblanc, Akira?”

“Well, I am.” Akira chuckled, the umbrella spinning round as he twirled it in his fingers. “But I... I was thinking about Futaba, strange that she hasn’t said anything so far, yeah?” Rain had wet his glasses, making his expression hard to read for the cat.

“Oh, you’re right! Should I check up on her?!” The cat shook the rest of its drowsiness off and then hopped down to a nearby level and then to the ground. Akira stared down at its bright blue eyes, gulping dryly. He never liked looking into Morgana’s eyes much, especially when they stared back, boring into his soul and seeing the velvet blue prison there.

The boy simply smiled and nodded, but it didn’t send the cat off.

“You’ll be by Leblanc then, Akira? What if the rest of the gang calls?”

“Futaba can type for you. I...” He paused, running his hand over his hair as he tried to quickly think on a better excuse to get Morgana away. He hated running, but this wasn’t it: this was pulling back, rethinking his strategy. A bike sped by in the far distance, towards the residential area above, and then Akira had an idea. “I got some stuff to do.”

He had pointedly started to walk towards Leblanc when Morgana dashed off towards the Sakura’s residence, the cat commenting on his smart multitasking approach. Right... People loved projecting, didn’t they? He was the fearless leader for Makoto, the gentleman for Ann, the anchor to Ryuji and so on. He felt like none of these things and yet he still played all them like a fine-tuned instrument, switching masks depending on his humour. Maybe that’s what had made him a wild card, after all. So many people calling him trickster, he might as well become one.

As soon as Morgana seemed away from his view, he dodged corners and dashed in the opposite direction of Leblanc again, towards the residential area where the familiar bike had run towards — he just hoped he wasn’t seeing things.

Akira had no idea what he’d done other than pointedly lie to all his friends and family to deserve such good luck, but here it was: Akechi’s bike, parked in front of a building — not only the bike, but its owner himself.

He decided to stick to the shadows then, not that there was any pointed risk in just coming up to Akechi and starting a conversation, but given how the other still hadn’t even replied to his messages, maybe it would be best. Maybe Akechi wouldn’t run away then, slippery as a barrel of eels and twice as prone to bite. Akira watched as the boy carefully locked the bicycle into a lamp post, heavy chains around the frame, wrapped in yellow plastic along with a password lock — not the pickable type, but Akira was good with numbers too. It was too bad he’d sent Morgana off, maybe the cat could’ve guessed in less tries than he would.

A small phone call buzzed, and Akira watched intently. He couldn’t possibly imagine who would call him at such a random time of the day, but Akechi picked up on the second ring, a little too fast for comfort. He hadn’t even checked who was calling, and his phone looked like an average smartphone — none of the burn types criminals used in movies. Right, Akechi maybe had something to hide, but clearly it wasn’t that bad.

He _guessed_.

“Hello– Ah. Yes.” Akechi’s voice when from a happy cheer to a more controlled tone, all professional and strickly business-like. He was nodding to the phone, his free gloved hand idly twisting the bike’s handlebars left and right. “I’m actually on it... I’m home as we speak.” His voice was bland, bored, parroting ‘yessir’ to whoever was on the other side of the line.

This was new. Akechi taking orders instead of being his free self, saying what he wanted as the media ate it up like hungry vultures.

“Yes, hit and run, the usual. It’s done. The other request is done too.” Akechi continued, his head nodding softly in confirmation despite it being a solely vocal conversation. His hair was flowing into the wind. Akira almost felt distracted by the way it shone, like candy, before Akechi simply brushed his bangs off, eyes blinking softly and staring nowhere. “And, S– uh?” S. Was _S_ the start of a name? A codeword? Akira wanted to know, he needed to find something out if he were to tell the thieves anything — and _S_ felt promising.

The downside of being a thief is that he never felt much alive when he wasn’t stealing — and if Akechi wasn’t giving information, he might as well take it, then. Even if it made his stomach churn.

“Oh, about the Phantom Thieves? Look, we should talk in person about this– yes, I _know_ . I’m sorry... it’ll be done, right away.” What would be done? Akechi couldn’t be that busy with detective work, as from what Makoto had gathered, he was but an intern: underpaid and overworked with mostly petty things. “We have promising leads, this won’t be a problem... I just need more _time–_ ” Did Akechi sound angry? Akira knew he was risking too much by peeking his head out, but he needed to see better, he needed Akechi’s eyes boring into him so he’d catch a semblance of truth.

He was reminded of their last talk over coffee, the boy had looked stressed and barely holding it together, but mostly, he’d felt paranoid. Akira blinked, and it was suddenly there now, because he’d finally reasoned to see it. Akechi looked cornered, hard-pressed by whoever was on the other end of the line. By _S_ , whoever _S_ was. Maybe _S_ was what Akechi had to hide.

Finding the detective's achilles’ heel was a power trip, rushing through his veins as his heart drummed in his chest.

“Well, if I told you their MO you wouldn’t honestly believe me! But I’m confident in our work — we’re closing in.” He laughed cheerfully then, a little too much from someone who had sounded bored out his mind, and it didn’t take knowing Akechi to know it was forced out, sycophancy in a laughter. Akira watched him blink and the smile dissolve, a secret from Akechi just for him to see. He’d steal that too. “Yes.. Also– If I might be so bold? No, that’s not what I meant. I merely wanted to apologise. I’ve overstepped my boundaries last time I... I’m sorry, Sae-san.”

 _S_ was just Sae Niijima. Nothing to hide there, and she probably was simply pressing him for the Phantom Thieves’ arrest because, and Akira knew better than anyone, they had gotten more popularity than they knew what to do with — they had gone from angry teenagers to wanted criminals, and the world didn’t even know their faces. A pity, Akira had really wanted to see himself in a wanted poster. Still, _S_ being Sae also meant he had just stalked an entire phone conversation for nothing, intruded in a particular moment that belonged to Akechi and his boss.

It also wasn’t the intel they wanted. Akira had just stalked a phone call for nothing. He felt the bile rising up to his throat, he imagined himself puckering green. Yet, now that he had suspected Akechi for the first time, he figured all their future interactions would be this: doubt would linger in the shadows, like a poisoned dagger.

He was brought back to reality by a burning feeling of being stared at, yet, as he looked once again at the detective, he saw simply a young man, his age and his height, fiddling with a smartphone. Akechi had laughed softly at the receiver then, no joy in his eyes, and then had turned off, walking into the building in front of him. Number 110, a small apartment, five stories and likely no bigger than 40m2. Well, fortune favours the bold, it’s his trickster motto, and so, with a carefree gait, he decided to approach. He’d gain nothing just standing by, but perhaps if they talked…

“Kurusu.” Akechi called, before he’d said anything. His voice sounded tired, there were newfound signs of overwork to his pale face, his eyes sunken in with a reddish purple underneath. He looked like he’d been crying, but why would a detective about to land his greatest prize yet cry? “I’m busy now, so forgive me but—”

“You didn’t come to the school, in the end.” Akira interrupted him, stepped closer until he was crowding Akechi against the apartment’s door. “I thought you’d make your move there, Detective… Yeah, I heard through the grapevine that the thieves were there.”

“Of _course_.” Akechi had rolled his eyes, but he still seemed to be dodging the issue at hand. Accessing, calculating how to approach the other. There was a small silence, and then to his surprise, Akechi laughed softly. “Have I not told you to cut the act, Thief?”

Ah, so he knew. Akira couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows there — a couple people had figured him out by now, Iwai, Chihaya and Takemi to name a few, but he hadn’t even spent enough time with Akechi for the bond to strengthen this much. Justine and Caroline had once explained him that some personas could only be materialized, could be welcome into his mind, by strong bonds (or blood oaths, as they had called). Akechi’s personas were all angels, swift and unforgiving but distant, judgemental. Perfect attacks, instant kills — yet one angel still remained hidden, even its name forbidden for Akira to know.

“Don’t wander off into your mind, Akira...” Akechi called him again, softly. A quiet secret shared only between them. He seemed to be wandering off a lot these past days. “Tell me why you came.” Next to the door, the single unlabelled mailbox belonged to the apartment 4A. Akechi’s name wasn’t written anywhere.

“You haven’t replied to my messages yet.” _Intel_ , his mind ushered him. Akechi’s relevance was strictly as good as the information he dished out, he needed to remind himself. Akira grinned, and leaned against the iron bars surrounding the building. “Have you been busy with work? Closing in on your targets?”

“Maybe.” Akechi had really pretty lips when he smiled like that, Akira noticed. Confident, preying and rigging a game in his favour, taking to the shadows as his brain dashed forward in endless connections ahead of time. Only Futaba’s brain worked as good. “Why, Akira? Are the Phantom Thieves feeling perhaps… defeated? Vengeful?”

Did Akechi think they’d... _what?_ Send him a calling card?! Akira had laughed, but at the obvious stress making Akechi’s smile twitch, he spotted the truth. _He did._ He thought Akira was here to corner and bite him, send him a calling card — but Akechi didn’t have a Palace. Perhaps that’s what fed to his fear, the fact he didn’t know the rules of the game. Akira realised something new about the thieves, in the detective's fearful eyes: how scary they could be, how limitlessly powerful. It made him shiver.

“Maybe.” He quipped, and grinned again.

Akechi wet his lips at the mirrored answer, and he shouldn’t have stared so pointedly at that, because next thing he knew, the other was unlocking his door frantically, kicking it open. He wondered what good it’d bring them, to make the other feel so cornered, when Akechi acted like a wounded dog half the time already. Morgana would praise him, but he didn’t feel very heroic for the trick. He just felt like the assholes he despised.

“Excuse m-”

“AKIRA!” A shout interrupted them, followed by loud meowing.

Fuck, his plan had failed. _Goddamnit, Morgana_.

“Akira, what are you doing with him?!” and “Joker! Step away!” were said in a loud rush, almost at the same time. Akira knew the voices before he’d even looked back. Futaba and Morgana had found him, certainly put two and two together that he hadn’t made it back to Leblanc as promised, then proceeded to run around Yongen-Jaya, hoping to get lucky. He supposed they did, but didn’t feel exactly glad for it — he was certain he hadn’t even been gone for that long.

Next to him, Akechi had tensed, shut into himself as he stared pointedly at the girl and the cat. He seemed to be gawking something, clinging to his bike and his keys like a drowning man.

It was Futaba, however, who scared Akira. She looked frozen on the spot, eyes round as platters and mouth hanging open as she stared back at Akechi, who while contained, had the same terrified expression. It looked strange, unsettling how alike they looked now, but then again, so many people looked the same when pushed to the brink. Her fingers were curled tight around Morgana’s middle, the cat struggling and yodelling, hissing at Akechi but likely, also in pain at the force of her fingers, curled so tight… as if she wanted to ground herself. _Right_ , he’d simply texted the girl with notable anxiety that they had been cornered and about to be jailed. He’d expected her to be fine, hadn’t he? Assumed her change of heart had meant miracles.

He couldn’t have said ‘sorry’ now, it’d be the worst timing, but hoped his wince was noticeable.

Futaba tensed, gawked and spat bumbling words before stomping her foot down, as if her power had been turned on, as if she’d been rewired again. Anxiety reprogrammed into rage. “We don’t rush into boss fights without equipping first, you stupid!” She shouted, stomping again with her tiny hands balled sharply into fists. “And no one does a boss fight alone!”

“Boss… Fight?” Akechi mumbled next to him. He wasn’t used to Futaba’s gaming lingo, Akira had guessed, but anyone with a childhood would know what ‘boss fights’ mean. The detective seemed to catch on too, his smile turning sour and his expression gaining a newfound bitterness to it. “Ah, I see....” He sounded calm, too calm for Akira’s liking.

“Akira, what are you doing?! The plan was to use him for information, not get on his side!” Morgana hissed.

Akechi tightened his grip on the bike, then pushed it heavily towards Akira before dashing inside. The tubes sunk into his stomach, leaving bruises, and for a moment Akira tumbled down, bending into himself in sharp pain. The crank had been shoved right against his leg, the saddle almost like a suckerpunch to his groin and _fuck_. Fuck you, Akechi. He yelped in pain, pushed the bike away, but it was already too late. Akechi’s apartment door snapped shut in front of him. 

“Wait, No–” Akira rattled at the bars once, two, then three times. No one came back. “I HAD HIM!” The boy shouted, banging his forehead against the bars then, feeling his body sulk and sink in.

“NO, YOU DIDN’T!” Morgana shouted in return, scurrying to jump at his neck. Akira felt claws at his skin, but even as he swatted Morgana away, the cat continued. “He was fooling you! And you didn’t even bother telling the truth to us!”

“We– we were all worried. Even Sojiro…” Futaba spoke then, lower. She stepped next to him, and tugged his body gently away from the grids. “Come, he’s waiting.” Her tone didn’t leave him nowhere nearly enough room to do anything except comply.

Sojiro was glaring sharply at him from the moment Leblanc’s bell announced his entrance.

“Futaba said you had promised her you were coming straight home.” Sojiro’s voice was harsh, strict like he hadn’t used in a long time now. Akira still had his mind drowned by everything Akechi, but even then he didn’t miss the implications: he had screwed up somehow. Big Time. “That was an hour ago.”

_An hour?!_

“I wasn’t gone that long…” Akira mumbled at first, and then, out loud, came the smarter reply. The actually thought-out one that Sojiro had been expecting instead. “Sorry.”

“Listen, kid. I got nothing on what you do on your free time, but if you’re stressing out Futaba, then it’s my business…” But it hadn’t worked. Akira’s honesty had caught onto him first, killing all potential chances of an eventual forgiveness. “And don’t give me that lip either, you’re still on probation, in case you forgot.” Sojiro narrowed his eyes, stared at the keys on the other’s hands as if thinking of revoking some privileges. Akira’s fingers curled tighter around the keys, their soft clicking echoing too loudly in the empty cafe.

“I didn’t.” He added, hispid and cool. People often described him as ‘nerves of steel’, and compared it to his eyes. They seldom saw the turmoil in his heart, just the voice over the surface: steady and calm. Sojiro, however, was proving to not to be like everyone else, every time he didn’t let Akira’s quiet resolutions pass by. The elder’s raised eyebrows broke his composure, and made him stutter. “It’s just– I– Something else came up. I had to do it.”

“W-we… we’ll be upstairs!” Futaba chimed in, scooped up Morgana and dashed up the stairs — the best way to judge Futaba’s nervousness was by her steps, Akira had learned. She would always get clumsier the more her body shook and anxiety made a puppet out of her mind. He saw Sojiro’s eyes stare longingly at the stairs, and noticed, perhaps for the first time now, how actually tired the man looked. Wrinkled eyes, slightly droopy with the age.

“Next time ‘something else’ comes up, then,” Sojiro started again, pulling the dishtowel from his shoulder to wipe the counter, “you drop a message and don’t leave her hanging, okay?” His eyes burned into Akira’s, and had Sojiro always worked at Leblanc? Because he looked like a cop now, like one of those hardasses in foreign movies who could sniff a crime from miles away. “But don’t lie like this.” 

“Sorry… I’ll mind her next time.” Akira’s voice came out barely a stutter, the mood in the cafe turning somber. His mind filled in the blanks for him, Futaba whining at the counter about him being late and Sojiro doing his best to assure her that Akira was just late and not dead, that a Shujin student had no reason to be caught and offed in an alley like a common thief.

“Good. _Tch,_ you’re still a troublesome punk, aren’t you?” The sincerity seemed to work enough for the old man then. Sojiro smiled, scratching behind his neck as he teased at Akira’s delinquency. It made the boy laugh back, and a truce was set. “You know, kid… You should use more of your free time on that kind detective that sometimes comes by — maybe learn a thing or two from him.”

How weird, for his guardian, the only one who didn’t know better, to suggest him the right opposite of all his friends. Go spend some time with your nemesis, Akira, maybe you’ll find a good fight there. Honestly, it’s as if Sojiro _wanted_ him to act on his own devices sometimes.

“He’s.. _really_ hard to find, Boss.” Akira said, his lips curling into a cunning smirk. “But I’ll try.”

Leblanc’s attic, in a photograph: Akira’s scattered mementos, tourist paraphernalia cluttering shelves that ranged from a Sky Tower lamp to a naked statue almost his size. A creaky bed, nowhere near comfortable enough. An old telly and even older videogames to run with it, and a chair in front of it, that matched the ones in the cafe below. Futaba, curled over the sofa, hugging her legs while Morgana, a skinny black cat with the bluest and widest eyes, licked its paws clean.

Leblanc’s attic had, over the course of the year, become his home. He liked it, even if it was too hot during summer nights and too cold during the winter. It was his now, given willingly and turned from storage into a thieves’ den — it didn’t escape him, the joke that was that Alibaba sat right in the middle of it, but he couldn’t laugh.

Instead, he simply dropped his bag near the stairs and walked quietly, hands on his pockets, up to the sofa. He sat down next to Futaba, and turned his torso to her. Waited for both his teammates to finish the fight they’d started in front of Akechi’s apartment. Morgana looked positively livid at his direction, hopping down from the table to sit in front of them.

It was Futaba who found her voice first.

“I couldn’t find anything on him.” She said, sounding like an announced defeat. Hifumi would call it ‘conceding’, but here it just sounded frustrating. The redhead took his hand, then, and squeezed it once before letting go. “I’m good at finding things about people… I- No– I _really_ am. But Akechi’s life is squeaky clean, too much for my liking, Akira… Like it’s been tampered with, you know?”

“That’s not all, either.” Morgana swished its tail, looking up. Its voice sounded angry, but its anger usually manifested in terribly condescending ways. “He ran away, didn’t he? So, he’s got something to hide, Joker. And that’s why we’ve been saying you gotta be careful with that guy!”

“Yeah, but because we suddenly had him cornered… If you two had _listened—_ ” If they had heard him goading Akechi away from that wall, they’d understand it. Akira felt his expression turn sour as soon as Morgana interrupted him.

“Don’t give me that, Akira! That’s bullshit and you know it!” Infernally condescending, actually. Morgana sounded like it was speaking to a particularly spoiled baby, and the simple truth that it sounded like he was throwing a tantrum made Akira’s blood boil under his skin. “I regret saying he could be swayed to our side… Ryuji was right, and now that liar is swaying your truth too! He’s lying about something, we should be finding out what!”

“He’s. Not. A target.” Akira spat, voice low and dangerous. He dragged out each word, made a bullet of each one of them and fired. Morgana didn’t know Akechi like he did, the cat hadn’t read their conversations and learned about how the other drank his coffee, or how he’d never replied about his stupid favourite movie. How he’d randomly quote pretentious dead people and let his morals be dictated by them, by boring traditions Akira would rather flip his middle fingers at.

“You don’t know that. As I said, he’s _too_ clean.” Futaba had kicked out and stretched her legs then, her arms crossed sharply in front of her chest. Akira let his eyes wander down the tenseness of her fingers, wondered if she spoke from a place of more than mere know-how. Had she done it to herself? Was Sakura Futaba’s online existence even traceable? He wouldn’t even be surprised if it wasn’t.

“Exactly! You should listen to Futaba, Joker…Because if Akechi is corrupted, then we’re wasting—”

“He’s not! What’s with you two?!” The trickster had bounced into his heels and stood up in a jump. He felt Arsene’s fire in his fury, cold and raw and destructive. “The guy’s annoying, sure, but he’s just doing his job! Wouldn’t we be doing the same– haven’t we been there ourselves, looking for Palace keywords and– _shit!_ ” He paused, heart burning and breathing coming out harsher. Was it the cold, squeezing at his lungs? Maybe. He’d been dishing out a lot of maybes lately. “He’s not a–”

Futaba glared at him, dared him to say it just what exactly all Palace owners were. _Fuck_.

“He’s _not_ our guy here.” He finished after a pause, and at that, the girl clicked her tongue. She looked like Sojiro for a fleeting moment, and what else had he been expecting from the Sakuras if not intense grilling now? But he wasn’t backing down yet.

Morgana was opening and closing its mouth, its body taut, ready to jump and claw at his face. At least he’d made it shut up, even if it wouldn’t last. “ _Why–_ you…!” It spoke, hissed. Then, finally, settled on actual words. “Why don’t we find that out, huh?” It challenged.

_The Metanav app. Of course._

Futaba fished out her phone, but didn’t turn it on. She was pulling herself into player two here, in case Akira chickened out. They should’ve known a thief better than to assume he’d back down from a bet.

“Yeah, why don’t we?” The trickster grinned as he thumbed his own phone on, flicking the Metanav app on. He brought the phone close to his mouth then, almost kissing the speaker as his voice thundered over the entire room. “Akechi Goro!”

He didn’t look away from the cat once.

A mechanical jingle broke the silence, then, a processed voice chimed happily. _“Target found.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to alternate he/him for Morgana on his Metaverse form and it/its for the cat form but let me know if the pronouns feel strange.


End file.
